This is random. I was just cleaning out some old papers when I found a poem a girl wrote for me in high school. Don't worry, this won't get sappy, lame, or gross.
I'll call this girl Maggie. She sat behind me in English class. If not for that, we'd have never spoken. She was cool and nice, and she ran with the hippie crowd, and even they were cooler than me.
One day I walked into class in a miserable state. I had just experienced a classic high school overly dramatic, artifically devastating breakup. My girlfriend had insulted me, embarassed me, and ditched me. I was heartbroken.
Maggie asked what was wrong. I gave her a quick outline of the breakup, and class began. 42 minutes later, as the bell rang, she handed me a piece of paper and said, "Keep this around for a while. If you find yourself wondering how you should feel, this is the answer. Have a good one." And she walked away.
The poem wasn't great art or stunning literature. But it was a declaration of independence. A condemnation of past wrongs. And, most of all, a funny reminder that moving on can be its own adventure. It was a creative act of kindness from a single-serving friend that I never forgot. Here it is:
Dear ------,
In case you haven't noticed, in case you haven't heard,
I find you quite repulsive, I think that you're a turd.
Sometimes I think I miss you, but then I catch myself:
"Hey, I don't like that chick; I'd rather date a warty elf!"
I'm sure you didn't mean to hurt me, but you've done a real bad job.
You my have killed my tender being and ALMOST made me sob.
So go on with your measly life and don't you worry about me.
You haven't murdered my morale as far as you can see.
But the whole point is, I'm over it.
In fact, my love, I give less than a shit.
Because you're a no good, rotten, stinkbug of a thing.
Find someone else's bell to ring.
Beaver.
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